


That the Soul Loves

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Negan/Rick fics [8]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Rick Grimes, Bottom Negan (Walking Dead), Dom Rick Grimes, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Humor, Infatuated Besotted Negan, M/M, Old Man Rick Grimes, Oral Sex, Pansexual Negan (Walking Dead), Papaw Rick Grimes, Plaid Negan, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Sub Negan (Walking Dead), Top Rick Grimes, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 01:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13987392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Negan is trying his damnedest to bed Rick Grimes because he can’t just be imagining the sexual tension between them. The problem is that he had no idea just how much of a tease Rick Grimes can be.





	That the Soul Loves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rickbisexualgrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rickbisexualgrimes/gifts).



_“Here are the roughs…”_

Ignoring the looks he was getting, Negan concentrated on digging in the dirt with his bare hands. They hadn’t trusted him with a trowel because it could be used as a weapon. When Negan pointed out that he didn’t need any weapon and could break off his dick to beat the hell out of someone when he wanted to, they nearly put him back in that cell. But Rick Grimes’ lips had twitched. He knew it was a joke, one of Negan’s bravados. So Negan was allowed to go free.

Well, almost free.

Cautiously, Negan chanced a look up over the onion leaves at where Rick Grimes was talking to one of the other Alexandrians. He couldn’t say he was disappointed to have Rick Grimes, bad-ass leader of Alexandria, as his own personal parole officer. Negan just wished that maybe he and Rick could be a little closer. A lot closer, in fact. Like balls deep close.

Leaning heavily against his cane, Rick turned his head, majestic curls and beard swaying with the motion. Negan ducked his head back down before Rick could look at him. It was stupid he felt this way. Two fucking years in that jail cell and he begged Rick for a fuck, a suck, a sad eye-contactless handjob nearly every day and got nothing for it. But now he was practically like an acne-covered teenager again because he was allowed to mess around in the garden under Rick’s supervision?

Yes.

Yes, he was.

Besides, it wasn’t like Negan had a lot of options for bed partners. People walked away from him as if he were the boogeyman. There had already been one attempt on his life (a half-ass poisoning that gave Negan the shits for three days and prompted Rick to move him into his house in the meantime). The only person who liked Negan – or tolerated him – was Rick.

And Carl, but Carl had been busy at the Hilltop lately with his blacksmith apprenticeship.

And Judith, but she was busy with school most of the time.

That really just left Rick.

So here Negan was, planting a garden in hopes of trying to impress Rick. Negan was pretty hopeless about it. Even before, he and Lucille never even had a flower pot to piss in. They preferred pets to plants, and she hadn’t been one for flowers, preferring chocolates. Luckily for him, Rick was pretty patient.

Negan was trying to be patient, too. Humming to himself, he shifted the dirt with his hands to dig up the red onions. He heard uneven, heavy footfalls –  _Rick_  – and in that moment of distraction his finger caught. “Fuck,” Negan cursed and pulled his hands away, examining his index finger.

A shadow fell over him, mercifully blocking out the hot sun. “What happened?” Rick asked and leaned over his cane.

Looking up at Rick, Negan’s eyes swept over the man’s face and came to rest even with those blue eyes. Again, he had to look away and back at his finger. “I don’t know. Must’ve hit a rock or something. I’m not bleeding, so it’s fucking fine.”

Holding out his hand, Rick said, “Let me see.”

There was only a moment of hesitation before Negan put his hand in Rick’s. Rick’s hand was calloused, warm, perfect.

Gently, Rick held Negan’s hand and looked over his finger. “Mm, it is a rock. Pretty small and caught under your fingernail.”

A little embarrassed and more frustrated, Negan bit back a comment on how he wasn’t given a spade or trowel. Instead he ruefully examined his other hand. His fingernails were black with soil and a trifle long. “Fuck, I guess so.”

“Why don’t we just clean these up, then?” Rick suggested, allowing Negan’s hand to slip from his palm.

Tilting his head to stay in the shade Rick offered, Negan stared evenly up at Rick. “What do you mean? I still have a few fucking hours left. I’m only halfway finished with this fucking onion patch.”

“That’s no reason to work through lunch.” Rick nodded towards his house, and Negan’s heart fluttered anxiously. “Come on, we’ll have a sandwich and let’s see if I have something to clip those nails.”

Leaving a half dug up red onion behind and the rest of his onions either in the ground or in the cart, Negan got up and slowly followed after Rick to his house. He was thirsty, and it would be nice to get out of the sun. The view behind Rick was pretty nice, too, if he was being completely honest.

While Rick’s gait was slow ( _because of me_ , Negan regretfully remembered, mouth pulling down), he still had a way of walking with confidence. The swing of his hips, the curve of his ass even in those piss-poor crime-against-humanity saggy jeans… Rick walked like he knew what he had. Negan was betting it wasn’t just because of what Rick had in the back, and he stifled his groan of want.

“Peach, Negan?” Rick suddenly asked, looking over his shoulder at Negan, hand on the doorknob of his front door.

Quickly, Negan shifted his eyes up. “Um, what?”

Rick’s mouth did that funny quirk that showed he was amused, but not a full smile. “I asked if you wanted peach. That’s the flavor of my tea. It’s either that or water.” He pushed inside, making his way to the kitchen.

Like a stray dog, Negan followed. The house was quiet, and he knew that Rick’s kids were gone and wouldn’t be home for a while. This would be the perfect opportunity for a fuck. He turned his charm on.

“Peach sounds de-fucking-liscious, Rick. Why don’t you let me pour us both a fucking glass while you just sit your fine ass down?” He went to do so, but Rick used his cane to block Negan’s way.

“Why, Negan? You think Papaw Rick is too senile to know how to pour a glass of tea?” Rick tilted his chin up at Negan, and his eyelashes fluttered over his cheekbones.

Negan felt the corresponding flutter of butterfly wings in his stomach. Rick had him trapped at a funny angle where he was boxed in closer to Rick than he was to the refrigerator. “No, not at fucking all, Rick. I’m sure you’ve got some fighting spirit in you.” If Rick tilted his head up a little further, they could kiss. Negan held his breath.

“Oh, you know I do, Negan,” Rick drawled in that cocky way that drove Negan wild all throughout the war. Now it was no different. There was a beat, a breath shared between them where Negan sucked in while Rick puffed out. Then, Rick dropped the cane and brushed past Negan. “You make the drinks and sandwiches, and I’ll see if I can find the nail clippers.”

With Rick out of the kitchen, Negan did as he asked, trying to not let his disappointment show. Still, when he washed his hands and cleaned the dirt and that one rock out from underneath his fingernails, he noticed his hands were shaking. By the time Rick made it back, Negan had it under control.

Smiling, Negan cheered, “Lunch time, Rick!” Their plates were on the table, glasses of peach tea beginning to sweat.

Rick sat down heavily at the table and picked up his sandwich first. “I see you found the leftover bacon from this morning.” He took a bite of his BLT.

Mirroring the action, Negan waited until he had swallowed before he replied, “Yeah, is it the fucking Kingdom bacon? I remember that. It was always fucking tasty.”

Taking another bite, Rick nodded. Negan watched the juice from the tomato drip down Rick’s beard. Throat suddenly dry, he gulped down a greedy amount of his peach tea and then smacked his lips. “Fuck, that is good. Not as good as lemonade, but still pretty fucking good.” Side-eyeing Rick, Negan pushed, “I bet a Georgia peach like you love this shit, huh? Reminds you of home?”

As if to prove Negan’s point, Rick took a long swallow of his tea. He lifted his chin, and Negan saw his Adam’s apple bob underneath that man-bush. He bet Rick had a bush elsewhere, too. Rick would be the kind of guy who wouldn’t mind if Negan forgot to keep things trimmed neat and tidy down there either.

Unbidden, images of Rick’s mouth sucking down his seed came to his mind’s eye and Negan was suddenly rock hard, mercifully hidden under the table. The next words out of Rick’s mouth didn’t help.

“I love a good, firm, and juicy peach. The fuzz and hair never bothered me much, neither.”

The aftertaste of the peach tea went to ash in Negan’s mouth. His tongue shriveled up and died, and for the rest of lunch, he concentrating on eating so he wouldn’t spend himself in his pants as if he were fourteen again. Even as he ate, the taste of the tea and the tang of the tomato and grease of the bacon was nothing compared to how Negan wanted to taste it all from Rick’s mouth, to taste the flavor of Rick’s sweat, of how if the sweat would taste the same from every inch of Rick’s body….

All throughout lunch, Negan swore it was like Rick could read his mind. Rick was putting on a show for Negan with every bite, his tongue flicking out first to lick the stray mustard. Halfway through his sandwich, Rick pulled the tomato out and ate it slow, streaking his beard with the juices. Negan imagined that the beard would feel rough to the touch, that in the wake of Rick’s kisses it would leave a rugburn, and tickle between Negan’s thighs.

Negan crossed his legs.

Rick finished the slice of tomato, and moved on to finishing the rest of his BLT, now just a BL. Once it was gone, he sucked his fingers clean – unnecessary, completely unnecessary. Negan hadn’t put that much mustard on Rick’s sandwich, had he? Rick polished off the rest of his glass of peach tea, some of it dribbling out of his mouth down into that beard – everything was catching in that beard – and then he was wiping his hands clean on the dish rag Negan had set out for them.

“Are you done?” Rick asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Negan nearly jumped out of his seat with a guilty start. “What?”

“Did you finish?” Negan’s mind was in the gutter, but Rick continued blithely, “Are you finished eating? You only ate half your sandwich.”

He couldn’t tell if that twinkle was in Rick’s eyes because he just knew, he just fucking knew that Negan was on the edge. “I guess I’m just… not that fucking hungry.”

Oh, Negan was hungry, though. Just not for BLTs.

With a tone of skepticism, Rick hummed, “Okay, then I guess we can clip your nails now.” Reaching across he grabbed one of Negan’s hands and pulled it to him with the practice of a father who’s had to wrestle Judith in place so he could trim her nails.

Not surprised that he lacked the urge to pull his hand free when he knew that his skin was singing under Rick’s rough touch, Negan compliantly sat there and watched. “Why are you so fucking interested in my fucking fingernails, huh, Rick? You know, I normally keep these babies really short and clean. You never know when I might have to just finger someone open so that I can slide my fat dick inside.”

Rather than a snort or a twitch of the lips, Rick actually smiled. “I know, Negan. You can never be too careful.” Bending his head down further, the ends of Rick’s beard brushed against the back of Negan’s hand, too rough to be ticklish.

The combination of the rough callouses of Rick’s palm and fingertips and the roughness of Rick’s beard and Rick’s smile was what pushed Negan over the edge. He was biting his bottom lip and pathetically coming on the spot while Rick was otherwise none the wiser. “Negan, don’t squeeze so hard,” Rick chided, and Negan forced himself to relax his grip on Rick’s hand. In his afterglow, he couldn’t find it in him to be embarrassed.

Once Rick finished up, Negan knocked his peach tea into his own lap to cover up the wet spot and then went to change while Rick cleaned up the mess. Negan only wished that Rick had cleaned up the mess in his boxers, too, before it got tacky on his thighs. When he came back out again, Rick was waiting for him; and Negan had to go back and finish pulling up red onions as if he hadn’t just come in his pants from Rick Grimes barely touching him, with a few choice words in his rough voice and a gentle smile to counter it all.

_“…and beards…”_

“Say, Rick,” Negan puffed and paused pushing the tiller.

Rick sighed and looked around, by now used to Negan’s not-quite-complaints that he used when he wanted a break. “Shoot.”

“Why the fuck am I pushing this when we have that fucking donkey?” Negan casually draped himself over the handle of the tiller, staring at Rick steadily.

Rick’s lips twitched before he looked back at Negan with that twinkle in his eye again. “I think you make a perfectly good jackass, Negan,” Rick sassed.

Negan blinked and then he was laughing, harder than he had in a while, half bent over. His stomach ached. “God damn, Rick, you always know just how to knock me right on my ass.”

“Mhm.” Rick shuffled his cane around in the soil. “You should know that by now.”

“Seriously, Rick. What the fuck is the point of having a fucking donkey? Am I still being fucking punished?” Negan asked good-naturedly. If this was still part of his punishment, he understood why. That didn’t mean Negan would stop complaining. Killing walkers? Almost dying? He’d be fine with that. But tilling soil? No thank you.

“We’re using the donkey to protect some of the new animals we got from the Hilltop. A walker came in and caught a chicken the other day. A donkey could trample it.”

Humming his acknowledgement, Negan started to push the till again under Rick’s supervision. He made it two rows before he started procrastinating again. “Rick?”

Limping closer, Rick sighed again with that same amused air about him. “What is it now, Negan? You gonna ask me why the sky’s blue?” Shaking his head, Rick’s lips twitched. Negan had yet to make him smile again like last time no matter how hard he had tried. “You’re worse than Judith with your questions.”

Smiling, Negan wiped the sweat from his brow. “I was going to ask why this fucking garden plot is more successful than the other ones. Is it because of me? I’m just so fucking great at this shit?”

Ducking his head, Rick examined his old beat-up boots. Negan hoped it wasn’t to hide his smile. When Rick looked back up, only his eyes were smiling, and if his mouth was, it was hidden by the beard. “This is actually the shittiest garden plot.”

“You’re shitting me!” Negan exclaimed, “Bullshit! Did you see the size of those fucking red onions?” He stooped and scooped up some of the black soil in his hand, holding it out to Rick. “You see this shit? That’s damn good soil.”

“Negan,” Rick huffed, “the reason this garden plot is so good is because this is right over the septic tank.” He tapped his cane on the ground. “Good manure.”

Flinging the soil at Rick, Negan shook his hand in the air. Walker guts were preferable to shit any day of the week. “Fuck you, Rick! Jesus, fuck!”

Laughing, Rick smoothed his hand down the front of his shirt, knocking the soil off and back to the ground. “You wanted to know, Negan.” He smiled at him, and it was bigger and brighter than the last smile. “Curiosity killed the cat,” Rick teased.

Unable to help himself, Negan meandered closer to Rick. Like a fly drawn to honey, he wanted to drown in Rick’s sweetness. “You know, that’s not the complete fucking saying, right?” With a gentle and hesitant hand, Negan brushed the clump of dirt out of Rick’s silvery white beard. It was just as rough as Negan remembered from before, and he had to fight the urge to tangle his fingers in it and bend down for a kiss.

Rick only tilted his head up more for Negan, both of them nearly nose to nose in this open garden plot. “Oh, I know the rest of how it goes. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

Oh, but Negan could have bent down and kissed Rick like he wanted if Rick hadn’t stepped away. Negan let his hand fall back down to his side, his fingertips still tingling from the rough texture of Rick’s beard, before he returned back to the till. He had to distract himself from thinking about if Rick’s beard might itch between his thighs.

“Hey, Rick?”

“Yeah, Negan?”

“You think I could ever grow a fucking badass Santa beard like you?” He made a show of scratching his fingers through the short beard he already had. Really, he hated his facial hair, and when he was in the cell he always begged Rick for a shave, which he would oblige. But now staring at Rick, Negan wondered if maybe Rick would be more interested in him if he had a beard.

There was Rick’s laugh again, and Negan’s heart was full of content to nearly bursting. “I’d like to see you try, Negan.”

Maybe not.

_“…and space…”_

For once, the sky was cloudy, and Negan was enjoying the relief from the sun. Negan also knew, though, that this meant it would rain, and instead of digging in the dirt, he’d be sloshing through the mud. They’d just converted this onion patch to be a tomato garden, and it took them a whole day to transfer the tomato plants from where they were before. That garden spot just wasn’t good anymore (“No fucking septic tank, huh, Rick?”), so it was going to be used for the new chicken coop expansion. Negan preferred these tomatoes to onions, and definitely over chickens.

He was just finishing up the last few wooden stakes of support for some of the bigger tomato plants when he heard Rick’s heavy, uneven footsteps approach. “Afternoon, Sunshine,” he greeted Rick without looking up.

“Good afternoon, Negan. You almost done already?”

“Yup! I’m ready for whatever ridiculous shit you’re gonna fucking throw at me next, Farmer John.” He beamed up at Rick with his regular smile, and couldn’t help but notice that here on his knees was the perfect position to just lean over and…

“Well, would you like to help Siddiq finish up the chicken coops?” Rick asked sarcastically, already knowing the answer to that question.

Making a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat that definitely was not a whine, Negan rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side, leaning back on his palms. “Do I have to, Rick? Can’t I just have the rest of the fucking day off and enjoy the weather?”

“You sound just like my kids.”

Negan made an inelegant noise of disparagement. Before Rick could say no or anything else, Negan wheedled further. “What about you, Rick? You ever have a fucking day off?”

Tilting his head curiously at Negan, Rick didn’t answer at first. His mouth worked back and forth the way he did when he had to say something he didn’t like – usually admitting when he’s wrong. When he did, Negan felt like he already won. “No.”

Immediately, Negan broke out into his smile again. “Lie down with me, Rick.” He patted his hand on the ground.

Rick’s head tilted to the other side. “What?”

“Come on, Rick, baby,” Negan cajoled and stretched out on his back. He was filthy enough as it is, and he could care less. Batting his best puppy-dog eyes at Rick, he repeated, “Lie down with me and let’s look at the fucking clouds, Rick.”

Huffing, Rick actually lowered himself to the ground and stretched out by Negan’s side. There was just enough room between the tomato rows for the two of them – three feet wide – but that meant the space between them was next to nothing. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, hip to hip, leg to leg, Negan was almost overwhelmed by it. Rick’s bad leg was on the other side at least, so Negan didn’t have to worry about accidentally knocking into it. The cane was out of the way, too.

If it was night, Negan would think this was perfect. Just a swath of stars above and the protective noise of crickets to signal that no dead were nearby. But even in this faint daylight, Negan loved this, too. They were out in the open together, barely hidden over the leafy green parts of the tomato plants. The smell of the soil was pungent in their noses, and Negan never thought it could smell so sweet.

Beneath their backs, the soil was soft as a mattress – definitely softer than his shitty bed in the cell. Would it be softer than sharing Rick’s bed? Negan didn’t think so.

Rick’s finger jutted into the sky, his silver watch catching some of the daylight and shining brilliantly. The time was only a quarter past two. “That cloud looks like a rabbit.”

Looking past Rick’s finger, Negan did see a bunny shaped cloud with the two ears. It was mainly just a rabbit head. “Fuck, you’re right. You ever tried rabbit before, Rick?”

“Yeah, it’s good. Not as good as beef, but better than dog.”

“You ate fucking dog?”

“Mhm, I was hungry, Negan.”

“Remind me to never let you go hungry again, Ricky boy.”

“You gonna go Scarlett O’Hara on me, Negan?” Rick teased, and Negan wanted to twist on his side so he could see Rick’s face. Rick’s eyes were bluer than the sky, and on his angry days, stormier than the worst weather Negan’s ever experienced. Just beautiful. “Scarlett held up a carrot when she did that scene, though, so we’d have to move to the carrot patch for that.”

“You don’t think I have a fucking carrot in my pocket right now, Rick?”

Rick chuckled, and Negan did turn to look over at Rick. Rick was staring up at the sky, those blue eyes shining and beautiful and perfect. “It’s a little small for a carrot, Negan.”

“Riiiiick,” Negan whined, “don’t hurt Little Negan’s feelings.”

He outright laughed at Negan. “Little Negan?” Rick’s head twisted to stare at him, eyes shining with mirth and smile bright under his white beard.

“Perfectly-larger-than-average-size Negan, then,” he corrected himself. “Damn, I should’ve told you that my dick was like a fucking cucumber or eggplant or something instead, shouldn’t I have, Rick?”

Shimming closer to Negan, Rick pressed the tip of his nose to his. Negan pursed his lips, begging for a kiss. His eyes went soft and half-lidded. But Rick just barely rubbed the tip of his nose against Negan’s –  _he nuzzled him!_  – and crooned, “I still wouldn’t have believed you, Negan. You forget I’ve seen your dick, before.” Then Rick was sitting up again, though he hadn’t yet climbed to his feet.

Quickly, Negan jerked upright, too, not wanting Rick to leave yet. “So,” he searched for something interesting to say, “is my dick the biggest you’ve ever seen or fucking what?”

“I’ve seen bigger.”

Negan deflated.

Comfortingly, Rick bumped his shoulder against Negan’s, not too rough to knock him over into the tomato plants. “But, I think yours is a pretty good size, Negan.”

Upbeat again, Negan jostled Rick right back, narrowly missing planting his elbow in Rick’s ribs. “Fucking thanks, Rick, babe.”

_“…and ruggedness…”_

“You need me to do fucking what?”

Sighing, Rick stroked his fingertips through the ends of his beard and shook his head at Negan. “I need you to make a scarecrow. The crows are starting to get into the tomato patch now, and we can’t afford to lose any. Also, you don’t know this because it happened last summer, but a few people got sick from when the crows got into the zucchini patch. We figured it was because they eat walker, and when they peck at the vegetables, it can leave some contamination on it.”

“Washing it fucking thoroughly should take care of that, right Rick?” Negan stretched and got out of bed to get dressed for the day. Rick had come to wake him earlier than normal, stating that he wouldn’t be able to watch Negan closely since he had to leave Alexandria for a short while. Negan hadn’t minded the wake-up call at all. Rick’s face wasn’t the worst thing in the world to wake up to, although Negan’s morning wood wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“It was a few hungry kids,” Rick said, gruff voice quiet.

“Oh, Rick,” Negan murmured sympathetically. He pulled on his clean white shirt and turned back to Rick before he reached out and settled for a comforting hand on the shorter man’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Reaching up and placing his hand over Negan’s, Rick said nothing. As the morning light streamed in through the slit of his curtains, Negan noticed just how old Rick looked. Well, he knew he was not a young man. His beard was telling enough for that. But Rick was younger than Negan by a few years, but already he had that cane ( _because of me_ ) and so many lines around his mouth and eyes. Negan wished they were from smiles and vowed to make more of them for Rick that way.

“Don’t worry, Ricky boy. I can make a scarecrow. How hard can that shit fucking be?”

It turns out that making a scarecrow was a lot harder than Negan thought. He got the wood from Siddiq and set up the post in the middle of the tomato patch, but then he ended up using old pillows for the body since no one would give him any of the hay (“It’s for the horses!”) or burlap sacks (“We need it for storing the harvest!”). Most of the old pillows came from Negan’s room, but he’s sure if he told Rick, Rick would get him some new ones. Hell, maybe they’d be a spare or two from Rick’s room.

The pillows were tied to the posts, and then hammered to it because they were so heavy. Now it was just a matter of dressing the scarecrow up. Negan went back to his room and rummaged through his closet for old shirts he would never wear. His wardrobe now mainly consisted of plaid shirts. They were good material for farming in. As he sorted through the clothes, Negan found his old leather jacket and hesitated.

When he had found this jacket at the thrift store with Lucille, he mainly used it to keep warm, so it was only worn during their short Virginian winters. Then the jacket became a necessity once Negan found out that walkers couldn’t bite through the leather. Since Negan didn’t have permissions to go outside the walls anymore, he doubted he’d wear this much if ever again. It’s too hot to wear for farming. Besides, he didn’t think many people would like to see this relic from the past.

His mind made up, Negan brought it back outside and looped it on the scarecrow, stuffing the pillows in the sleeves and zipping it up. It looked pretty good to Negan.

Using a too-small-for-him red shirt, Negan looped it around the neck and tucked it into the jacket. “Not too fucking shabby, Scarecrow Motherfucker,” Negan muttered to himself under his breath.

He added a hat – a baseball cap – and twisted it backwards on the scarecrow’s head. It was a cap for the Mets anyway. “Shit, I need a pen.”

Trekking back inside, Negan rooted around for a sharpie but ending up having to go in Judith’s room to borrow one of her magic markers. He’d put it back before she’d even know it was gone. Back at the tomato patch, Negan gave the scarecrow two big black eyes and thick eyebrows that met in the middle with a ‘V’. “You gotta look like a scary motherfucker,” Negan explained to him, “it’s in your fucking name.”

He drew a frown and then a thick black mustache, like the kind Simon used to have. He added a triangle beard for good measure, making the scarecrow more Mephistopheles-like. “You’re one gorgeous motherfucker, Scarecrow Motherfucker, but I’ve got my eye on someone else. Sorry.”

“Why don’t you just wrap it in barbwire,” a woman’s shrill voice said from behind Negan. He whipped around and face an Alexandrian woman he didn’t recognize. Not one of Rick’s original people, if he had to guess, but he wasn’t sure.

“Excuse me?”

The woman frowned at him, shifting her basket of laundry to the other hip. “You heard me.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.”

Eyes wide with anger, the woman charged forward into the tomato patch to meet Negan. He watched her carelessly stomp through the plants and dug his nails into his palms to keep from saying anything else. “I see what you’re doing!” She accused him, “You’re taunting us! You’re dressing up that scarecrow like you! Isn’t it enough that we have to see you every day now and know that you’re living here scott free!”

“I was living here before,” Negan started, but she quickly interrupted him.

“In jail. In a cage. In a hole in the ground. Exactly where you belong. Six feet under or more.” She leaned into his personal space, and although she was a good foot and a half shorter, she was still loud and angry. Her finger was just under his nose and if he happened to sway forward, she could have picked it for him.

“Look, lady. I’m trying to fucking rehabilitate. I’m just growing a fucking garden, minding my own business. So why don’t you go finish up washing your fucking delicates and unmentionable panties and let me finish my fucking work? The scarecrow has to fucking stay and I can dress it up however I fucking want. It’s my Scarecrow Motherfucker.”

_Smack!_

Negan’s head snapped to the right, and he saw stars. He slowly turned back to look at the woman – he didn’t even know her name – and she punched him this time. Where there was only a sting before, now Negan could feel the beginnings of a bruise. 

He had already turned back around and prepared for another hit when a familiar voice shouted at them. “Phyllis! The hell do you think you’re doing?”

Both Negan and Phyllis swung their heads towards Rick, who was hobbling as quickly as he could with his bad leg. Phyllis took a step back from Negan, hugging her basket of laundry protectively to her chest.

Breathing heavily – from anger or from moving so fast, Negan couldn’t tell – Rick shuffled in between Phyllis and Negan, a protective hand behind him and splayed over Negan’s belly. Underneath Rick’s hand, Negan’s stomach twisted like a pile of snakes and grew hot. “You didn’t answer me, Phyllis. What were you doing?”

“Just look at the scarecrow, Rick. It’s a crime!”

Without turning around, Rick growled, “I’ve seen the scarecrow. What of it?”

Spluttering, Phyllis argued, “It’s a mockery of us!”

“More like a mockery of the old Negan to me, Phyllis.” Rick arched an eyebrow at her. “Is that really worth striking Negan over?”

“It’s just Negan. He’s not one of us.”

“Phyllis,” Rick gritted out between, and Negan was suddenly reminded of the only other time he’s seen Rick get like this.

It was one of the rare occasions where Judith got in trouble. Under normal circumstances, no one would dare try to correct Judith. For one, she was Rick’s daughter and apple of his eye. For another, though, Judith was a good kid. She was sweet to everyone and unlike her brother, didn’t wander off or pick fights.

So, of course, the one time Judith does get into trouble, it’s because of Negan. It was one of Negan’s first days in the gardens, back when he was pulling up potatoes. Judith visited nearly every day to bring him lunch. One day, though, Judith’s teacher found her and was furious. “Judith! You told me you were going home for lunch!”

“I did,” she answered honestly, “and then I come here to eat lunch with Negan.”

“Negan is a criminal,” the schoolteacher scolded.

“Mrs. Corin,” Rick greeted her as he came back from a meeting with Maggie, leader of the Hilltop. “What’s the problem here?”

“Judith has skipped lunch to have it with Negan,” Mrs. Corin explained, and went on about how irresponsible that was and how Negan couldn’t be trusted around her.

Rick coolly held up a hand to stop her tirade. “Negan is a guest in my home. He is no longer a prisoner, and he is my responsibility. I trust him around Judith, and I trust Judith’s judgement.”

“She’s a child,” Mrs. Corin snapped irritably, “she doesn’t remember, she doesn’t know, she’s a naïve little girl who’s going to get gobbled up and spat back out by this monster and every walker she meets if you don’t stop this.”

Rick’s blue eyes iced over to nearly green. “She’s my child and I won’t have you talking about her like that.” Rick held out his hand to Judith and she took it eagerly, cuddling up shyly behind Rick’s good leg. “Judith will join your classes again when you apologize, Mrs. Corin. Have a good day.”

Negan had been impressed, reminded of those PTA parents who always busted his balls; but now, now he was only surprised. Rick was chewing Phyllis out right now, but Negan couldn’t hear a word.

Looking askance at Rick, all he could see was that snarl Rick would have during the war and the arctic ice in his eyes. Rick was defending him as if Negan were part of his family.

Negan stopped himself before he could continue that line of thought any further; it would be dangerous to do otherwise.

He tuned back in just in time to hear Rick spit, “Get the hell out of my sight, Phyllis, and mind the tomatoes.” Phyllis stomped away – careful not to step on any tomatoes this time – with a flounce of her brunette ringlets, and Rick watched her go impassively.

Finally, Rick turned to Negan. “Did she break your nose?”

“No,” Negan answered, his voice small and cautious as he were afraid to scare Rick away as much as he really was afraid to get in trouble with Rick again. “My nose doesn’t hurt.”

Clearing his throat, he attempted to lighten the mood with a joke, “How’s the rest of my fucking face? Am I still pretty, Rick?”

Slowly, Rick’s eyes began to defrost and warm back up to that gentle blue Negan loved so much. The protective hand he had placed on Negan’s stomach slid up his body until he gently cupped Negan’s jawline, mindful of his abused and reddened cheek. The trail of fire Rick left behind was unnoticed by him; but Negan could feel it spread out and tingle in his fingertips and toes – and maybe his dick and balls, too. “You’re beautiful, Negan. Now let’s go inside and I’ll get you some ice for your lip.”

“You could always kiss it better, Rick.”

“I’d rather kiss the scarecrow first.”

_“…and nonchalance…”_

Kneeling in the tomato garden, Negan had been picking the weeds when he noticed the ladybugs on the plants. “Hmm.” Sitting back on his heels, he looked around. Alexandria was normally peaceful, with the regular hustle and bustle, but today it was particularly busy. There was supposed to be a festival. Negan wasn’t really looking forward to it. People from the Hilltop and Kingdom and Sanctuary would come, and he wasn’t ready to see those familiar faces.

And Michonne came back from her sea trip yesterday. That’s why Rick had left him to make a scarecrow. Negan didn’t know she was here until he woke up and wandered into the kitchen to see her eating breakfast with Carl and Judith. Feeling like an intruder, Negan had snuck out unseen to throw his pity party in the garden. Now that she was back, he doubted Rick would want him around much anymore. Sulking, Negan plucked another weed out and shredded it in his hands.

“Good morning,” came a small and familiar voice behind him.

Turning around with a smile already on his face, Negan stood up and tilted his head at little Judith. “Good morning to you, darlin’.” Looking over the top of Judith’s head, Negan’s breath caught in his throat.

Rick was standing there, supporting his weight on his good leg rather than his cane, and he had that amused smile curling his lips, the softness in his eyes that only happened around Judith. Negan thought Rick was beautiful in this moment, and it wasn’t until he allowed his eyes to drift over Rick that he pieced it together in his head why. Dressed all in white, Rick reminded Negan of Lucille, but then… not Lucille. A queer feeling twisted in his stomach, and he covered it up with another smile. “Good morning to you, too, Rick, baby.”

Doing his little head shake that he did when he was pleased but embarrassed, Rick looked out towards where the Alexandrians were setting up for the festival. “Morning, Negan. Michonne said she missed you before you left.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Negan tried to not let his bitterness leak through his smiling teeth. “Yeah, I figured I might as well come out here and get as much work done as I can before the festival starts.”

“I don’t have school today because of the festival!” Judith said, and Negan’s eyes dropped back down to her. “Mrs. Corin is helping with the owl.”

“Wow,” Negan cooed. Judith continued to talk about it animatedly like all little kids do, her shyness falling away. Inadvertently, Negan lost himself in thought. She has grown so much from the toddler she was when they first met under a very different and unusual set of circumstances. When he looked at Judith now, he didn’t see Rick at all. Maybe she looked like her mother.

“Judith,” Rick gently interrupted, and stroked his hand through Judith’s blonde hair. “Honey, can you give me a moment with Negan?”

Gazing up at Rick adoringly – everyone looked at Rick this way – Judith grabbed her father’s hand and squeezed it three times. “Okay, Daddy.” She wandered a little away, going to examine the new scarecrow and still staying within the perimeters of the garden.

Nervously shifting from foot to foot, Negan turned back to Rick. “What did you wanna fucking talk about Rick?” Honestly, Negan was expecting to be moved out in a different home now that Michonne was back, but that didn’t come at all.

“Michonne volunteered to spend a little time with the kids. I was wondering if you’d like to spend a little quality time with me,” Rick drawled, deep and slow and soft. His accent caressed Negan’s ears, and they started to turn red while he processed what Rick said.

Staring at Rick, who just fluttered his eyelashes at him, Negan couldn’t be misinterpreting this. “Oh, Rick,” Negan sighed, careful to keep his voice quiet enough so that it wouldn’t carry to Judith. “You’re asking me to –”

“Yes.” Rick shifted his stance so that he was leaned against Negan’s side. It was a careful maneuver, Negan noticed, to make it look like Rick was only tired or having trouble with his leg. Placing his hand on Negan’s chest, slipping beneath the plaid shirt, but still on top of the white t-shirt, Rick hummed, “I want you, Negan, been wanting you for a while but you’ve never done nothing. I thought after two years of you begging me, I’d give you a chance once you were free and I’ve seen the good man you can be around my kids.”

In the tomato garden in the broad daylight, Rick snuck a short and innocent kiss of late summer to Negan, so brief but singularly perfect that Negan felt young again. “Don’t keep me waiting, Negan.”

Suddenly, before Negan could react, Judith’s voice rang out. “Negan! Negan!” Rick pulled away, both of their heads swung on the alert for Judith. But she was fine, kneeling a few rows over and waving her arms at them wildly with that same smile on her face. “Come over here and look at this.”

Not really knowing why, Negan glanced over at Rick. Despite having just propositioned Negan, Rick looked pretty calm and content. Feeling a tornado in his belly, Negan envied the feeling.

Rick must’ve thought Negan was asking him for permission because he just chuckled and nodded towards Judith. “Go ahead, Negan. You know where I’ll be.”

He wanted to leave Rick with a kiss, but since Judith started calling for him again, Negan just lightly tapped his palm against Rick’s ass before trotting over to her. “What is it, Judith? You find my buried treasure yet?”

Her little head popped up, eyes shining with childish glee. “You buried treasure out here? Like the pirates?” Judith loved pirates – mostly because of Michonne. Half of the bedtime stories she demanded were about pirates. Negan thought it was adorable and didn’t mind reciting  _Pirates of the Caribbean_  from memory for her – or taking credit for the story.

“No, Judith, not really. That would be too obvious.” Gently lowering himself to his knees beside her, Negan asked, “So what am I supposed to be looking at here?”

“Look!” She pointed and Negan saw some ladybugs crawling over his tomato plants. “They’re ladybugs, Negan,” she announced proudly.

“Yeah, I see them, Judy. You know if they are pests or not?”

“Oh, no!” She shook her head back and forth so violently her blonde hair whipped in her eyes and she had to stop to tuck it neatly behind her ears. “They aren’t pests at all. Mrs. Corin says they eat the bugs that eat the crops. Ladybugs are supposed to be good luck.”

Negan’s eyes flew over to where Rick was watching them both fondly. Their eyes connected, and Rick actually winked before an Alexandrian approached him and they started a conversation.

“Yeah, Judy. I guess ladybugs are good luck.”

_“…that the soul loves.”_

Once Negan had finished weeding the tomato garden, he slowly made his way back to Rick’s house. He walked up the rickety white porch, boots heavily thudding on the wood, and as soon as he stepped inside, he knew that the kids were already gone because it was too quiet. Cautiously, he called out, “Rick?”

Listening, he heard the uneven footfalls and the stamp of the cane. Rounding the corner, there was Rick Grimes, down to just his blue jeans. “I was worried you weren’t going to come, Negan.” Rick leaned against the wall, and Negan’s eyes followed the movements of Rick’s pectoral muscles. “But I guess, I shouldn’t have worried. I have a feelin’ you’ll always come for me.”

With a growl, Negan crossed the room with three long strides. When he met Rick, he wrapped his arms around his bare waist, fingers caressing over the silken skin. His lips met Rick’s chapped ones; and despite his earlier growl and Rick’s teasing, he kept it light, as chaste and as sweet as the one Rick gave him A kiss for a kiss.

There was a noisy clatter as Rick dropped his cane to the floor. With both hands free, he buried his fingers in Negan’s hair and scraped his blunt fingernails over his scalp, causing shivers to run up and down Negan’s spine. “Take me to bed, Negan,” Rick ordered.

And Negan did as he was told. He scooped Rick up into his arms bridal-style and carried him to Rick’s room. All the while he ignored Rick’s protests (“I’m not too old yet, Negan, let me walk! Don’t drop me!”) until he set him on the mattress. “Come on, Rick, baby,” he shushed Rick with a gentle kiss, smoothing his fingers through Rick’s beard. “Just let me fucking take care of you.”

Reaching over for his bedside table drawer, Rick rummaged around until he pulled out a bottle of lube. Pressing it into Negan’s palm, Rick drawled, “You can start by slicking my cock, because you’re going to ride me.”

Negan glanced down at the half-empty bottle of lube with a smile. “Oh, Rick,” he licked his lips, “I most certainly motherfucking will ride your dick, cowboy, but I wanna have a taste of you first.” The lube was forgotten in favor of undoing Rick’s ratty jeans, and Rick laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind that at all. I suspect your mouth can do a lot more than run,” Rick teased. Anything but still, Rick sat up and pushed Negan’s plaid button up off his shoulders. “Wanna see you, Negan. Miss seein’ you like this.”

“What’s that, Ricky?” A wicked smile flashed across Negan’s face. “The warden was peeping on me? That’s fucking perverted.”

“It’s not peeping when you’re begging me to suck your cock, Negan, and you’re waving it in my face,” Rick argued, his smile betraying his own mirth.

“I wasn’t fucking waving it!” Negan stripped off his own white shirt, leaving the both of them bare from the waist up.

“Then what were you doing, Negan?” Rick countered and lifted his hips for his partner when Negan started to pull Rick’s pants and boxers all the way off. Rick’s proud cock sprung to attention against his slightly pudgy stomach, and Negan’s mouth watered at the delicious sight of it.

“Um,” he tried to remembering why they were fake arguing, “I was jerking it.”

“Right in front of me?” Rick cocked an eyebrow.

Negan shrugged. “I was hoping you’d take pity on me and suck it. Or just fucking jerk it for me. You never did.”

Rick’s fingers pleasantly scratched through Negan’s beard, just the way Negan always did himself when he was nervous. “I wanted to be sure you were serious about me,” Rick admitted, his eyes soft but elsewhere, “and it wouldn’t have been right to fuck you then. It’s not like you had many options in that cell.”

Wrapping his hands on either side of Rick’s neck, Negan urged Rick to look at him. “Rick, this is… something fucking else. Not fucking Stockholm syndrome.” Not Negan’s most romantic words, but he’d always been better at actions anyway.

With that in mind, he kissed Rick, first on his mouth, long and hard. His hands slid down and cupped Rick’s chest, thumbs swirling around the nipples. Negan’s mouth dropped down, too, burrowing underneath Rick’s beard to get to the tender, sensitive skin of his neck. Guided by Rick’s throaty moans, he nipped and sucked and ran his tongue over it He intended to leave a mark until he thought of how that wouldn’t be the best idea for Rick, to walk through the festival with a glaring hickey on his neck. Rick probably wouldn’t like that.

Mindful, Negan moved his mouth down Rick’s chest, pressed sweet kisses to his collarbone until he reached Rick’s pectorals. He tasted of sweat, the tang of Rick’s own skin. Negan never thought he’d be able to taste it. Replacing his thumbs with his mouth, Negan switched back and forth between laving on Rick’s petal pink nipples. A blush spread over Rick’s chest, and Negan nipped and sucked to leave the hickeys here, knowing they would be hidden under Rick’s shirt.

Above him, Rick was anything but still. His fingers cut a path through Negan’s sweat dampened hair, scratching down his back to reach Negan’s pants. He swiped over Negan’s rear, searching for his ass or at least something to hold on to, but came up with nothing. Huffing with frustration, he busied his hands with pushing Negan’s pants and boxers down. Then he reached Negan’s ass and spread his cheeks, digging in his fingertips that would leave tender bruises and exposing Negan’s tight pucker to the cool air. Rick’s deep groans grew to breathy whines. “Negannn, stop teasing me.” Lightly, he tapped Negan’s rear, and Negan chuffed out a breath.

Leaving Rick’s chest and nipples abused and wet, Negan dragged his lips down Rick’s stomach. His tongue dipped into Rick’s navel, slathering saliva until he finally reached Rick’s cock that bumped him in the chin insistently. He wrapped his hands around the base and gave it a little squeeze. Normally, he’d be running his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Negan didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and he’d rather his mouth be busy doing something else.

A ghost of wetness circled around Negan’s hole, and he jerked against Rick. They made eye-contact, and though Rick was breathing hard, he had that cocky smirk on his face. “I’ll slide a finger in here,” he pressed a lube-slickened finger on Negan’s hole a little harder, but did not push inside, “if you slide your mouth on my cock.”

Biting his lip, Negan tried not to whine or beg, hazel eyes flickering back and forth between Rick’s brilliant blue ones. Rick raised an eyebrow, daring him on, tapping his finger in reminder. Negan did whine then when he pressed a desperate, sweet kiss to Rick’s smirk, sucking his bottom lip hard enough to bruise.

Before Rick could kiss him back, Negan dropped his head back down to Rick’s cock and placed the same kiss on the weeping head. All the air in Rick’s lungs left in a whoosh, and then Negan was placing sweet, suckling kisses up and down the shaft, at the base where the skin of Rick’s sack was loose and soft and sensitive, on the underside beneath the head where Negan knew Rick would be sensitive, on each bulging vein. It wasn’t until he heard Rick suck in a deep breath that Negan finally slid Rick’s cock into his mouth as much as he could without choking.

His eyes closed in bliss. Negan was tasting Rick’s cock, the sweat and bitterness of precome, swallowing him until the head of Rick’s cock hit the back of his throat and made him gag. Tears sprang up in his eyes, gently leaked out over his cheek along with his saliva from his lips. He had always loved oral pleasure, it didn’t matter if it was eating ass, licking pussy, or sucking cock. But this felt so much better because it was Rick’s cock that he was tonguing at and gently scraping his teeth over. He’d never thought he’d get to do this, just like he knew he could never tell Rick that he loved him. This would be his only chance to do both in his own way.

Suddenly, Rick was there, pressing a finger on Negan’s hole until he was sliding inside just past the second knuckle. Around the cock in his mouth, Negan moaned, the sound muffled, but sending pleasurable vibrations shooting down Rick’s cock to tingle in his balls. In retaliation, Rick added another slick finger to join the first, and he scissored Negan open in preparation, curling and searching for his prostate. “Fuck, Negan, maybe I should’ve let you suck my dick sooner.”

When Rick found Negan’s prostate, Negan pulled off his cock with a cry. “Fuck! I can’t keep sucking your cock when you do that or I’ll end up biting it off. Rick.”

Rick pulled Negan closer by the grip he had on his ass, encouraging him to straddle his lap and hover over his cock. “Then ride me, Negan. What are you waiting for? It’s already been two years.” He pulled his fingers free so he could lube up his cock, and Negan felt an ache of emptiness that he knew would be filled again soon. His own jutting erection was throbbing between his legs, balls uncomfortably tight. Negan was this, he wanted to finally fuck Rick, to make love to Rick, but the closer it came the more he wanted to draw this out and enjoy it while he still could.

Rick’s cock slid between his cheeks, reminding Negan of Rick’s impatience. “You have to ride my cock, Negan, my leg…” he trailed off meaningfully, and even though Negan was so hard, guilt bloomed alongside the heat in his gut.

“I know, Rick,” Negan gently hushed him, capturing Rick’s mouth in a kiss again, nipping gently with his teeth. Reaching between them, he placed Rick’s cock at his entrance, and while they kissed he slowly slid down. He was stretched, split open, stuffed full, completed. Once he was fully seated, he let out a sobbing noise that would’ve embarrassed him if he weren’t so pleasured. “Fuck, fuck, Rick, your dick is amazing inside me. Fuck, so hard, baby. Just for fucking me, just for me. Fuck.”

Since Negan was sitting high, Rick trailed his mouth down Negan’s neck, paying back the favor of kisses. “Move, Negan, I want you to move so I can fuck your tight ass loose for me.”

Following Rick’s instruction, Negan moved his tender hips, first rocking back and forth to ease the ache and get used to the feeling again. Then he bounced a little harder at Rick’s insistence when he spanked his rear. “Harder!” Rick grunted and added teeth to the attack on Negan’s neck.

Placing his hands on Rick’s shoulder for leverage, Negan worked himself over on Rick’s cock. He searched for the angle that would drive him wild and he found it when Rick’s cock went from sliding to bumping against his prostate. “Oh, Rick!” Negan called out, glad the house was empty. but also not caring if it was, “Oh, Rick! Fuck yes, right there! Love your dick inside me, love your fucking dick fucking me open, love your dick!” Ruthlessly, he bit his bottom lip until it bled to keep himself from shouting anything stupid.

But Rick wasn’t having that. With his dominate hand, Rick grabbed Negan’s chin in a tight grip, forcing Negan to look at him. Negan’s mouth lolled open, panting heavily, but Rick just soaked in it. “No, Negan. You’ve never stopped yourself from running your mouth before, why stop now?” Sweat trickled down Rick’s forehead, his body was glistening with his farmer’s tan, and Negan was sure he looked just wet, but Rick looked damn beautiful. “Let me hear you, Negan, I wanna hear you.”

Negan whimpered, bouncing harder and faster so much so that it nearly knocked the breath out of him. Between their sweaty bodies, his aching cock was bouncing, too. It slid up and down Rick’s belly, and Negan wanted to see it paint Rick’s chest. The head of his cock leaked and gently fucked into Rick’s navel, just a tease of the contact he needed.

Frustrated that Negan wasn’t talking, Rick reached for Negan’s cock with his other hand. His thumb and forefinger encircled the base of his cock, his other fingers cupping Negan’s sack, supporting it as he bounced on him. The hand he had on Negan’s face slipped down to wrap around his throat, not squeezing but holding. “I said that I wanna hear you, Negan,” Rick growled, “and if you don’t give me what I want then it’s because I’m gonna choke the hell out of you. You like that? Then give me what I want, Negan.”

Finally, Negan couldn’t hold it back. “Fuck, Rick, yes, yes, yes,” he chanted. He grabbed Rick’s wrist, not trying to pull his hand away, just anchoring himself further. “Rick, Rick, oh, Rick. Wanted this. Fucking wanted you for so damn long, baby. Fuck. Dreamt of you fucking me, making me yours, wanna fucking belong to you.”

Rick released a pleased noise like a hiss, and he started pumping Negan’s cock as a reward. The brisk pace he set made Negan ride him faster, and he gripped him hard and tight, flicking his wrist. Gently, he squeezed Negan’s throat, and he gasped.

“Rick,” Negan breathed, “slow down, slow down. Don’t wanna come yet. Wanna stay on your fucking dick forever, never wanna leave this bed. Fucking want you, want you, fuck, fuck, want you so fucking much. Want  _you_.  _Want_  you.”

Even in the lust haze, Negan saw the surprise flit across Rick’s face. The hand stroking his cock lost the rhythm and then renewed its effort. “Come for me, Negan. You’re gonna come for me.”

“Oh, Rick,” Negan’s head dropped back and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Fill me up with your come. Fuck me full.”

He bounced once, twice more and then he was coming all over Rick’s chest and belly, painting him white. As he froze up and squeezed Rick’s cock inside him, he heard Rick grunt and felt the release, the lewd spew of wetness that made Negan curl his toes until they cramped.

Exhausted after his orgasm, Negan tipped forward, and grabbed Rick’s headboard to steady himself. After waiting for so long, not only did it feel good, but it felt like a weight was off his chest. He hadn’t said ‘I love you’ but he figured Rick would tell by now. Negan rubbed his face into Rick’s neck – not hiding, definitely not hiding – just trying to remember how to breathe, wondering how to move forward from now.

Rick’s arms wrapped around him, ran up and down his back, gently combed through his hair. Rick was humming, not a set melody, but rather just making noise like a low buzz to fill the now too quiet room. His hands slipped down under Negan’s rear and gently lifted him, and his cock slid out and so did his come. Negan felt it drip down his legs and he clenched, desperately wanting to keep it inside.

Negan was in Rick’s bed; finally, finally in Rick’s bed. They fucked on his sheets, Rick came inside him, kissed him, left handprints and bruises. He wanted to swaddle himself in Rick’s sheets like a burrito so he could drown in Rick’s scent, Rick’s warmth, in Rick.

“Come on, Negan,” Rick gently crooned in his ear. “We’ve got to go to the festival.” He kissed Negan’s temple, urging him to get up.

“You mean you have to go,” Negan snorted, “they don’t fucking want me there.”

“Judith would miss you. Carl, too,” Rick argued. He pulled away and they finally looked at each other again. “I want you there.” Tenderly, he cupped Negan’s face and stroked his fingers down his neck. “I left marks here for a reason.”

Negan’s hands flew up to his throat, furrowing his brow in confusion. “You did? You actually…” he made a funny noise, “You don’t fucking mind if people know we’re fucking?”

“Negan,” Rick chuckled. He leaned in close and kissed him again, just as sweet as the first time. “We’re more than fucking.”

A blink. A flutter in his stomach. A stutter in his heart beat. Time stopped and caught up. Slowly a smile spread across Negan’s face. “Really?”

“Yes,” Rick insisted. “Now hop off, Negan. We need a shower before we go. I may want everyone to see your hickeys, but I think dry come on your thighs won’t be very comfortable today.”

“You’re fucking right about that. Wanna take a shower with me, baby?”

“I don’t need your help showering, Negan.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant!”

And Rick laughed.

 _“Here are the roughs and beards and space and ruggedness and nonchalance that the soul loves.” – Preface to_ Leaves of Grass _, Walt Whitman._


End file.
